


You look so beautiful in this light, your silhouette over me

by SummerSnow888



Series: Warren Worthington III is as good at flirting as he is at helping bring about the apocalypse [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, If those tags don't strike fear into your heart and prepare you then I don't know what will, Inept Attempts at Flirting, M/M, No seriously Warren has no idea how bad he is at flirting, Romance, Teenagers flirting, teenagers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerSnow888/pseuds/SummerSnow888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we begin to learn that Warren Worthington III's method of flirting is 75% showboating, with the other 25% yet to be determined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You look so beautiful in this light, your silhouette over me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HallowedNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedNight/gifts).



> Bonus points to whomever can find the reference to a beloved cultural icon.

Warren Worthington III was on a mission.  Namely, he was on a mission to win the heart (and maybe, one day, just _maybe_ , hand) of a certain unnamed blue mutant that was in no way, shape, or form Kurt Wagner, alias Nightcrawler.  

 

It was totally Kurt.

 

And so what if it was?  See, being bedridden for a month in the mansion gave Warren a lot of time to think about a lot of things, among them being his burgeoning feelings for Kurt.  Which seemed antithetical at first.  Kurt was the one who got him into this whole mess in the first place, after all.  It was Kurt who slammed him into the electric fence, searing his left wing into a useless, bloody mess.  And, technically, if Warren wanted to be petty (which he totally did sometimes, especially if his head was killing him), if Kurt hadn’t teleported the X-Men out of the plane at the last minute, he probably wouldn’t crashed so spectacularly with _absolutely nothing to show for it_.

 

In fact, it was safe to say that in the first two weeks of his newly-regained consciousness, Warren Worthington III hated Kurt Wagner.   _Hated_.  With a bone-deep loathing.  Stupid little blue freak, with his stupid tail and his stupid teleportation powers and his stupid red eyes that were not at all like two limpid orbs of amber-veined carnelian because there was no universe in which Warren Worthington III would wax poetic in such a featherbrained ( _ha_ ) fashion about Kurt Wagner’s eyes, _no sir_.

 

At least, he had no original intention of doing so.  It was just _really hard_ , okay, when Kurt would awkwardly shuffle into his room every day with hesitant accented inquiries regarding his health and so much _remorse_ and _guilt_ and _concern_ all condensed into the most heartbreakingly adorable expression Warren had ever had the honor of witnessing.  He succumbed to the sheer cuteness that was Kurt Wagner standing tentatively at the foot of his bed, fingers steepled and nervously tapping together, tail waving about like a shy reed.  Warren dared _anyone_ to honestly say that they could keep hating someone who looked like a kicked puppy.  A _hot_ kicked puppy, with skin the color of dark blue hyacinths and full lips that were perpetually pouting and delicately-pointed ears that Warren just wanted to _lick_ , and - the point remained that Kurt Wagner was very hard to resist and that was all Warren was going to ever say about it.  (Out loud, that was.)

 

And so Warren Worthington III came to the decision that as soon as he was released from bed rest, he would woo the mutant formerly known as Nightcrawler and _no force on Earth was going to stop him._

 

* * *

 

The first step, naturally, was getting Kurt to notice him. This would be easy.  Warren was _great_ at getting people to notice him.  It was his job, nay, his _calling_ to get people to notice him.  He had, after all, a wide variety of noteworthy features:  his face, his muscles, his hair, his _wings_.  All he had to do was to find a way to strategically showcase his most-impressive physical attributes in a way that would capture Kurt’s full attention and from there, it was only a matter of _days_ before he, as most people seemed to do, succumb easily and rapidly for Warren’s considerable charms.  In no way could this go wrong.

 

Warren spent his first week after being released from bed rest carefully scoping out every large window with a sweeping view at various points during the sunset.  It was of utmost importance to his plan that he stand at a window at the perfect point in time during the sunset, through which the perfect amount of sunlight would stream, at the perfect angle.  To make things even more difficult, said window also had to be located in a place that Kurt frequented at the given time.  

 

Finally, _finally_ , after a week of lurking awkwardly around staircase landings and French doors and turrets and, on one memorable, unfortunate occasion, the section of hallway _right outside_ the girls’ bathroom on the third floor  - and Warren did not _at all_ panic a little inside whenever he thought he saw a fluttering of red hair after that incident.  It wasn’t his fault that Xaviers past had seen fit to install such a spectacular expanse of stained glass on the third floor landing.  It would’ve made his wings look like _jewels_ \- Warren found the absolute perfect spot: the bay window in the corner of the main library, which Kurt frequented between the hours of five and six-thirty in the evening.

 

And so Warren found himself posed in front of the window at six o’clock on a Tuesday evening in such a fashion that the last, dying rays of the sun could _illuminate the chiseled lines of his profile_ and _highlight the glorious arch of his wings_ and _cast his hair into a halo of gold._ Indeed, his entire being was unto a sculpted shadow, dramatically gilded by the light of Heaven.  There was no need to be subtle here, no need to not draw attention to the fact that his alias was indeed _Angel_.  All the better to appeal to Kurt’s Catholic sensibilities, in any case.

 

“Um, Warren?”

 

Warren’s heart leapt, for the unknowing object of his affections had noticed his efforts and was obviously about to fall over swooning, as evidenced by the hesitant waver in his voice.

 

“I understand that the sunset is very beautiful, especially from this window, _aber_...”

 

Warren held his breath, unwilling to ruin the moment that was so clearly forthcoming.  He had waited for weeks.  He could wait a few more moments.

 

“I am trying to read, and you are blocking the light.  Please, could you move?  Just for a bit?”

  
Warren could feel his heart crawling into his soul and dying until it had shriveled into a stony lump before crumbling to bits and withering away in the wind like so many grains of sand in the Sahara desert.


End file.
